


I've Got A Feeling It's Never Too Late

by TheAprilFool



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety, Cats, F/M, Grand Prix Final, M/M, The mice!, Transgender Pidge, Weight Gain, Yuri on Ice AU, but as kids, competitions, figure skating, klance, mice as children, past shiro/keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 01:11:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10629060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAprilFool/pseuds/TheAprilFool
Summary: “I saw your video and I'm going to be your new coach. I decided.”“You what?”“You heard me right. With my help, you're going to win gold at the next Grand Prix Final.”It sounded so good when Keith said it Lance almost believed him, almost.Or the Yuri on Ice AU I've been craving





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is sometime I've been working on in my free time as I binge watch Yuri on Ice...again 
> 
> I thought I could kill two birds with one stone, filling my need for Klance and more YOI all at once! 
> 
> Just something to note...Pidge is transgender in this. Born and still technically a male (so she can compete in men's skating) but prefers female pronouns and her appearance is female. Just in case anyone was wondering how pidge could be competing against lance.

Humiliated. 

That's what he'd done. He'd gone out there and embarrassed not only himself but his entire family— _his entire country_. His parents hadn't slaved away, working long hours at the family resort to pay for his lessons, for him to come in _dead last_ at the Grand Prix Final. What was wrong with him? 

Lance tried to be strong, sitting in the last stall of the arena bathroom all alone. He'd told his coach he needed to pee but really he'd just needed a moment to calm himself down so he wouldn't cry in front of all those cameras. The last thing he wanted was for the world to see him red faced, snot nosed and puffy eyed. It wasn't working. Tears were pooling in the corners of his eyes and dropping almost faster than he could produce them. After the first few welled up, he'd just let it happen, his body convulsed with each sob. He'd just humiliated himself at his first Grand Prix final. Nobody would judge him for bawling in a bathroom, not if they had seen _that_ performance.

He could blame it on a number of things: lack of experience, nerves. He could try and blame it on bad timing. The family cat, Aojishi, had died less than two weeks ago. It shouldn't have been that big of a deal but Lance had had her since he was six. She was just as much a staple in his life as his own family. The fact that he wasn't there with her had been eating away at his conscience since Hunk had called him. Lance’s confidence in himself was already fragile and that had been the straw that broke the camels back. God only knew how bad his daily moisturizing routine had been suffering. He didn't even want to think about how trash his diet had been the last two weeks. His uniform was already starting to fit differently.

“Hey,” he heard just outside his stall. The sudden voice scared him enough to choke back his cascading tears, “ _Hey!_ ” 

Before he could even respond, the door to his stall swung open, hitting the partition with a loud metal clang. On the other side he saw the last person he was expecting. 

“ _Pidge Holt?_ ” her name rolled off his tongue, sweet and venomous, just like the rumors portrayed her.

Pidge Holt, the most talked about skater of her generation, was standing in front of him, barely five foot tall with a scowl that could kick his ass. When she wasn't making headlines for her stellar skating ability— a genius they called her—she was making them for being the first transgender male figure skater to grace the ice. Next season, when she debuted at the senior Grand Prix, she probably wouldn't bomb nearly as hard as he had. 

Her hands were crossed over her chest, judging him as he tried to avert his gaze. He barely felt worthy to share a bathroom with her at the moment.

“Don't tell me you're in here crying,” she snorted, “This is the type of competition I have to look forward to in the senior division? Pathetic. Why don't you do us all a favor and retire? We don't need weaklings like you sullying up the good name of competitive figure skating.” 

Lance stared back, eyes blinking but for once, nothing to say. He hated to admit it, but maybe she was right? Maybe he should retire. At twenty-one, his career was on the back end anyway. He wasn't the type of skater who could actually be competitive at twenty-five. _He wasn't Keith Kogane._

He was naïve. That's what he was. Well that, not to mention out of his league. Only now everyone knew it.

"Really though, you should think about what I said. Later loser!" She offered with a peace sign and a smile before slamming the door on her way out.

Lance checked his face in the mirror. His cheeks still had a faint blotchy red tint to them and his complexion was lack luster, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Maybe he'd give himself a facial when he got home to make himself feel better? It was worth a shot at least. Until then though, he had to face the music and go back outside. His coach was probably waiting. 

He dragged his feet, avoiding eye contact and cameras as he found his way to the front of the arena. He'd built a reputation on being approachable and personable but today he hoped that ducking behind his coach would keep his from being noticed. It didn't stop the cameras from catching his picture. 

“Lance! Lance McClain!” 

Lance turned only because he recognized the voice. Standing behind him was Rolo, one of several newscasters he'd encountered throughout his career. The only one who seemed to have anything positive to say during his less than stellar performance. Had it been anyone else, he probably would've kept walking.

“Lance, kid, you can't retire yet. You're too young!”

Lance paused, his face edging on bright red as those within earshot turned towards him. Usually he didn't mind attention but he didn't want it now. 

“I think it's a little early for that. I ugh…I hadn't really decided yet.” 

Lie. He'd already promised himself he would never set foot in a competition ever again. 

“What are you going to do then? Are you going back to America to finish school? What about after? Will you keep training?” 

He didn't feel like being bombarded with questions. He knew Rolo meant well. He might've been the only person here who still remotely believed in him so he tried to give the guy something to work with. 

“I don't know yet. I'll have to discuss all of the details with my coach first.”

Lance thanked God when all the commotion seemed to turn its attention elsewhere, distracting everyone around him. Through the main double doors came Pidge Holt, a sight that made him shudder in fear, and Keith Kogane, perhaps the greatest male figure skater the world had ever seen and Lance’s idol. 

He was embarrassed to say that he was jealous of Pidge for anything other than talent, but he was. Pidge and Keith competed for the same country. Whereas Lance didn't think he'd ever be worthy to breathe the same air as Keith again, Pidge was actually talking to him. He didn't realize he was staring until Keith turned, meeting his eyes and flipping his hair with his intense black brows turned up. 

“Do you want a picture or something?” 

Lance didn't even have time to be insulted by the fact that Kieth didn't know his name. He was too busy rushing out of the arena and when he made it out, he never looked back.

XXX 

1 year later 

Lance dragged his bag through the terminal, head down and hood up. It never really got cold in Cuba, not like in Detroit, but it was mild enough that he could wear a hoodie without being stared at. His goal was to make it home without being noticed—a feat that would prove harder than he thought when life-size posters of him in full figure skating gear were plastered just below the escalator. He let out a long sigh. At least they were fading, he thought, much like his short lived career. 

He wasn't expecting Allura to be waiting for him at the bottom. He'd purposely withheld his arrival time from everyone to avoid any commotion at the airport. He should've known someone would've figured it out. He was sure Hunk probably had something to do with it. Sometimes he was too smart for his own good.

“Lance! Lance, over here!” She waved excitedly! Her white hair bounced around her shoulders, just as full and beautiful as he remembered. Not making it home in the last four years was easily one of his biggest regrets. The best he'd done was a few spontaneous skype sessions or photos on instagram, but those didn't compare to seeing his family and friends in person.

She was pulling him into a tight hug before he could stop her. “Allura, hey. You didn't have to pick me up from the airport.” 

“Are you kidding? It would've taken you all day to get home if you tried to catch a bus. Besides, I haven't seen you in four years. You know phones are a thing that exist right?” 

She sounded upset but he knew she was happy to see him and he was just as happy to see her. Part of him was grateful. Getting a bus to Varadero would've been fine, but finding one to take him from there to his even smaller home town would've been a pain in the ass. 

“Yeah I know. I should've kept in contact.” 

“Yes you should've! I understand that being a world famous figure skater takes up a lot of time, but that doesn't mean you should forgot about us.” 

“I kn—”

“I mean really Lance, you couldn't have been too busy to call. You're well known but not Keith Kogane. After the nationals I'm sure you could've spared a minute to at least text.” 

Her words were starting to attract attention. People began to stare as she berated him just a little too loudly for his comfort. He was trying to keep a low profile and it became evident she had blown it as onlookers slowly began to put two and two together.

_“Isn't that Lance McClain?”_

_“He was a figure skater wasn't he?”_

_“Are you sure? It doesn't look like him.”_

_“Wasn't he in the Grand Prix Final?”_

_“Didn't he lose?”_

He felt his face going red and he tried to hide deeper into his hoodie. While he'd always managed to maintain a reputation for being kind and easy to approach, he didn't thrive off strangers attention as much as people liked to think. Especially not negative attention. He preferred to be reserved at times. Still, he knew what it felt like to admire someone. After his epic loss, he hadn't been in the most confident of moods. Fans hadn't been his top priority so he just avoided being noticed altogether. He didn't like constantly being reminded of ice skating or his loss. He tried his best to remain personable but sometimes it was hard.

Like now, when all he wanted was for Allura to let it go. 

“And while we’re on the subject!” She said, only to be interrupted as several patrons came up to him with notebooks out.

“Can I have your autograph?” 

Lance tried to hide his face, turning to look down at the ground in hopes maybe they'd just go away. It wasn't that easy. “I'm sorry, I'm sort of in a ru—” 

“Keith Kogane always has time for autographs,” Allura growled beside him. 

Lance figured it was best not to argue. No need in developing a rude reputation after he'd worked so hard to develop a nice one—or getting on Alluras bad side. The faster he signed them, the faster he could go. He signed several before finally managing to reach the terminal exit and make it out of the airport.

"How have you been?" Allura asked as she lead him to her car. “I know everyone is dying to see you! We’ll have to make a few rounds on the way—” 

“If you don't mind, i'ld really just like to go home.” 

“But Lance—” she started, only to turn and see his less than stellar expression. She frowned but finally seemed to be catching on, “Fine. We’ll make rounds another time. I know your family missed you. Coran and I can't wait for you to see the kids. They've really grown up since you've been gone.” 

Lance smiled softly. He'd missed everyone but more than anything, he'd just missed being home. 

XXX 

“I'm home!” He greeted, walking through the door of his parents resort. 

They lived in a small town just outside of Varadero and operated the last privately owned resort for miles. The private hot spring coves used to attract all manners of tourists before Varadero turned into the thriving tourist location it was now. Now, The Coves at McClain attracted people looking to get away from the hustle and bustle of city life and large crowds. 

His mother appeared first from around the corner with a wide smile she couldn't contain. His father popped up from behind the counter just after. They both looked almost the same as when he'd left, which he appreciated more than anything.

"Lance! Allura!” She exclaimed, wrapping them both in her arms. She had quite the vice grip for such a small older woman. Even as an adult, Lance could still barely breathe in one of her hugs. 

“Hey mom, dad. It's good to see you.”

His father was much more relaxed, with a quick hug and a pat to his shoulder. “It's good to see you to mijo.”

“It's been so long! Look at you,” his mother grabbed his cheeks, “you're a man now!”

"I know, Its nice to have Lance home finally,” Allura smiled, “You look great Mrs. McClain, have you lost weight?” 

Mrs. McClain blushed, doing a bashful dance in her spot. “Allura, you sure know how to make an old lady blush!” 

Lance looked his mother over. Was Allura being nice or had he been gone so long he hadn't noticed? 

_“And you!”_

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Allura’s pointed stare. It made his whole body shiver as he tried to slowly inch away. 

“Just what kind of gut are you trying to hide under that oversized hoodie, huh?” 

His whole body seemed to go numb. He'd been trying so desperately to make it to his room without anyone noticing. 

“I—ugh—” Lance stammered. Allura was on top of him in less than a second. Her slender fingers poked at him, trying to grip at the bottom of his sweatshirt. He fought back to no avail. She was too quick and agile, the perks of being thin. 

She pulled his hoodie and he had no choice but to lift his arms up. It slid off, lifting the bottom of his shirt up just enough to see his less than tight stomach underneath. 

“I knew it!” 

Lance tugged quickly at his shirt.

“You always did gain weight easily, didn't you?” His father chuckled as if his shitty metabolism was any excuse for what he'd let happen to his body. 

Lance groaned, glaring at Allura in the process. It wasn't her fault he'd gotten fat either, but he needed someone else to take his anger out on. 

Really, the only person to blame was himself. Once his season had ended, and subsequently his entire career, Lance had let his fragile emotions get the better of him. All the things he used to take pride in like his skin care routine had fallen to the wayside. Like his father said, he'd always had a problem with keeping weight off. Usually he paid extra special attention to what he was putting in his body, especially during the season. With no competitions to train for, and the embarrassment of the Grand Prix final looming over his head like a dark, daunting storm cloud, he'd spent the better part of the last few months drowning his feelings in greasy American food. It didn't seem like that big of a deal until he'd started packing to come home and half of his clothes didn't fit. The scale told him he'd put on about thirty-five pounds.

“That's no excuse! He's a world class figure skater!” 

Lance didn't bother to interject a _“was”_. No point in starting another argument. 

His mother shrugged, patting his cheek with an understanding smile. “Well he's not in season now. I had some fresh picadillo and rice ready, how about a few bowls?”

It was his mother’s attempt at making him feel better and he had to admit, there was nothing his favorite dish couldn't help but there was something he needed to do first. He'd been thinking about it since he left.

“Sure mom, but before that…” 

She smiled, knowing what he wanted even when he didn't say it. Mother's intuition he supposed. 

“Of course mijo. She's outside, by the garden.” 

Lance smiled, thankful to get away from Allura’s prying eyes for even just a moment. It wasn't hard to find Aojishis grave. There were fresh picked flowers lying on top of the dirt and a small wooden marker with her name written across it. It was simple, if not a little crude, but still sweet. It made him feel guiltier than before. 

He sat down beside the grave, giving a quick, “hey girl” as his fingers brushed over the wood plank. “I've missed you. I…I'm so sorry I wasn't here to say goodbye. I…I…”

“I'm sure she understands.” 

Lance practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of Hunks voice. His adopted brother had gotten taller. He was all broad shoulders and thick muscles, much like they'd all always expected but he looked different somehow. Maybe it was just age? They'd been teens the last time they'd seen each other. 

“Hunk! My bad. I didn't see you.” 

“Don't apologize. I just heard you were here. Welcome back.” 

“Thanks dude...I'm sorry I couldn't make it back sooner.” 

“Don't worry about it. We're just happy to see you home now.” 

He didn't like being away from his family, especially Hunk. Even if the only thing binding them together in the eyes of the government was a piece of paper, Lance had always thought of Hunk as his brother. They'd met in pre school, after Hunk had defended him from a pair of schoolyard bullies picking on him for his weight. They'd clicked over their similar senses of humor and love of the ice rink. Hunk however, was more into the idea of playing hockey than figure skating.

Hunk’s parents died when he was eight, a car accident. He had no other family. The McClains hadn't hesitated to step up, not wanting to see the boys separated at the hands of the foster care system. It had only solidified their bond that much more. 

“Are you coming back to work at the resort?” 

“The resort?” 

Hunk had come back to help after he'd graduated college the year before. Considering Lance had little interest in running the place, it would probably be Hunks one day. 

“Well you are here. Don't get me wrong, if you plan on skating again I'll support you, but you did get a business degree. Might be worth putting to good use?” 

“Yeah, pass.”

His brother laughed, “Figured I'd try. Still, it's nice to have you home. You know phones are a thing that exist, right asshole? Try picking one up from time to time.” 

“Allura said the exact same thing.”

XXX

He knew he'd begged Allura to take him home, but there was one last thing on his mind before he could truly settle himself for the night—He had to get to the ice rink. Ice Cavern Cuba, his home rink. 

"I'm sorry, were closed,” he heard an all too familiar voice say from behind the counter.

Lance stepped forward still, “Hey Coran. Long time no see?” 

Coran stopped, almost dropping the ice skates he held in his hand. “Quiznack! Lance is that you?” 

He looked the same as the last time Lance had seen him, tall and thin with bright red hair and an equally bright mustache. He’d been a skater at the rink as well, though a few years older. He'd chose to teach and manage the rink as opposed to competing, despite his undeniable talent. Lance had always admired his grace, looked up to him even. 

“The one and only.” 

“Come to skate I take it? Go right ahead, you know you're always welcome!” 

Lance nodded in appreciation before quickly lacing up his skates and making his way to the ice. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss it here. The rink in Detroit had been bigger, fancier, more equipped for professional skating. It was nice but this rink felt like home. He was familiar with it in a way he'd never be anywhere else. It was one of the few places he could come to skate and actually be alone, without the pressure of performance looming over him. 

He skated a few laps, practicing turns and old step sequences that hadn't seen the light of day in months. It was like riding a bike, the way he never forgot old routines. He landed a simple double toe loop before noticing he had an audience. 

“I hope you don't mind,” Coran offered from the sideline, “it's been a long time since I've seen you skate in person.” 

“I don't mind, you know that. I actually had something I wanted to show you, if you had a minute?” He didn't know why he felt so nervous and unsure of himself. In Detroit he'd always been a little hesitant at the rink and so to make a name for himself, he'd built up this persona as a personable skater who exuded confidence in his appearance, if only because of how much effort he put into taking care of himself. After the Grand Prix, the persona quickly crumbled and he'd spent his time hiding out to keep from exposing who he really was.

“Of course I do.” 

Lance skated to the center on the ring, pausing to take a deep breath and get into position. He lifted his arms above his head, slow and graceful, before launching into a routine that exactly mimicked the one Keith Kogane had taken gold at the Grand Prix with. Every jump, every turn was flawless in a way Lance’s own routine hadn't been. 

He ended back in the middle to an applause from Coran that made him feel as though all his practice had been worth it. 

“That was an exact copy of Keith's routine wasn't it? Lance that was amazing!”

“I've been practicing this,” Lance panted, “for a while now. I didn't skate much right after the—well I'm sure you saw it.” 

Coral nodded. Who hadn't seen it? 

“I wasn't sure if I'd ever step on the ice again. I was too embarrassed to even show my face at the rink, but even if I gave up on my career, I didn't want to give up on doing what I loved. This routine helped me find that spark again.”

Before Coran could speak again, four little heads were poping out from behind the rink door, each excitedly taking over each other.

"That was amazing Lance!"

“Did you learn that all by yourself?” 

“Is it true you bombed at last years final?” 

“Have you really never been on a date?” 

Lance felt slightly overwhelmed unsure of which question to tackle first, but he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. He hadn't seen the quads since they were still in diapers. For a moment he almost wished he'd been around longer during the years when they didn't talk. 

That's enough now, Coran said, calming them down. “Lance, I'm sure you remember the quadruplets: Chulatt, Platt, Plachu, and Chuchule. As you can see they've grown up quite a bit since you've been gone.” 

“I can tell. Nice to meet you all again.”

They stared him down, skating around and observing him in a way only children could. They all looked like Coran in different ways but they were undoubtedly his children. 

"Well Lance, you know you're always welcome here and whatever you choose to do, we’ll all support you.” 

“Thanks Coran. I know, but still, thank you.” 

Xxx 

“Lance! Lance are you there? Quiznack I—I thought I told you to go to bed! And what did I say about—hello Lance?” 

It had to be at least six in the morning when his phone rang three times in a row. He'd finally answered to Coran’s frantic fatherly yelling on the other end mixed with a message he assumed was for him. 

He was jet lagged and groggy. If Coran didn't get to the point soon, he was hanging up. “Yeah I'm here, what's going on?”

“Lance I'm sorry, the quads! They—what did I tell you about using my laptop—they—“ 

“They what?” 

“I didn't know they were recording. They uploaded a video of you routine online. It's gone viral!”

“It's gone _what?_

“Look Lance I'm sorry but I have to go—I said turn off the compu—”

Lance stared down at blinking “call ended” screen flashing on his phone. 

There was no way Coran was serious. A video? _Of him? Viral?_

No. Even the video of his butchered routine last season didn't go viral. There was no way…but when he looked at his phone again he knew it was true. He already had at least fifteen messages about it. He pulled up YouTube and held his breath as he typed in his own name. The video popped right up. 

‘Lance McClain recreates Keith Kogames Grand Prix Final Routine.’ 

It already had over 700,000 hits and counting. He wondered who all had seen it? He'd only intended to show Coran and now it was out there for the world to see. What if Keith saw it? What if he was pissed? Lance prayed it wouldn't get that far. He read through a few pages of comments—most wondering where he'd been, his weight or why he hadn't been able to perform like this at the Grand Prix Final. After a few minutes, he had to pull himself away to keep his own sanity. He didn't want to see or think about the video ever again in his life. 

It took him an hour to finally show his face outside of his room. His father was cleaning and his mother was prepping food for the day. They didn't mention the video and he hoped that meant they didn't know. 

“Lance, you're up early,” his mother said, “do you have plans? Could I ask a favor?” 

“Of course.” He would do anything to distract himself. 

“Could I get you to make a run to the farmers market? We’re running low on some ingredients in the kitchen.” 

A trip to the market would be a solid distraction without too many people he thought. He took the list, happy to disappear for a few hours. 

Xxx 

Lance returned several hours later, arms filled with bags that he was struggling to carry. He refused to make two trips to carry them in, loading them all into his arms instead. He dropped them on the floor with a loud thud to announce his arrival home. Instead of being greeted by his mother, he was greeted with a soft purring sound. 

He quickly looked for the source, only to find a shaggy orange cat with long whiskers rubbing up against the side of his leg. It looked just like Aojishi but bigger. 

“Aojishi?” He questioned, leaning down to pick her up. 

His father walked in, laughing and grabbing bags from the floor. “Looks just like her doesn't it? It's not though. This cat came with a new resident who just checked in not too long ago. A rather handsome looking guy with long black hair and an accent.” 

Lance paused. Long black hair? Orange cat that looked just like Aojishi? It couldn't be. There was no way. 

“He's in the Cove outside,” his father informed as if reading his mind. 

Lance ran, cat and all, to the Cove Entrance to see for himself. He had to be going crazy. He had to be exaggerating. Things like this didn't happen to him. But as he ran through the double doors, he realized things like this did. 

Sitting in the cove, head back and eyes closed was none other than his idol in the flesh. A man he'd only seen from a distance in ice rinks. 

“K-Keith Kogame?” 

That seemed to get his attention just enough for him to open one eye and smirk. 

“Lance, I see you've met Akajishi.” 

"What are you doing here?" 

Keith stood up, his body every bit as tight and toned as anyone might imagine. He stretched casually, the only thing saving Lance from a total eyeful being a few conveniently placed fountain streams and the cat.

Keith shrugged, waving offhandedly, “I saw your video and I'm going to be your new coach. I decided.”

Lance’s jaw dropped and Akajishi fell from his arms, running back towards the resort. “You what?” 

“You heard me right. With my help, you're going to win gold at the next Grand Prix Final.” 

It sounded so good when Keith said it Lance almost believed him, almost.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to leave a comment/kudos! They are appreciated! :)


End file.
